


The Perfect Son

by demonessryu



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Affairs, Angst, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Coming Out, Drinking, M/M, Misunderstandings, Moving Out, Press and Tabloids, Relationship Reveal, Secret Relationship, actually more like accidentally outing oneself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26360557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonessryu/pseuds/demonessryu
Summary: Maybe it was wrong for Roger to trust Brian.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	The Perfect Son

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my laptop for too long, but as we recently found that picture of Maylor date night in Japan, I think it's time to unleash the angst into the world.
> 
> I make some assumptions about Roger’s parents’ marriage here. Take it with a spoonful of salt. Inspired by Brian’s way too many songs about his affairs.

When Roger arrived at the studio and found Freddie already there, he knew something was wrong. He raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t react when Freddie urgently shooed staffs and roadies out of the control room. There was never any shortage of problems around Queen. Between internal ego-driven arguments and mercenary outsiders, there was always some sort of crisis to sort out. Roger put his stuff away, mentally going through a list of recent happenings. The press had been hounding Freddie as usual, hoping to catch him doing something scandalous, and the pressure was wearing Freddie down. Freddie rarely complained, but Roger knew how he wished for privacy to do whatever he wanted without worrying about the world’s judgment and how it might impair not only his private life but also the career he had spent years building. Roger breathed out quietly. As burdensome as keeping a secret was, at times like this he was glad only a select few knew about him and Brian.

Roger and Brian’s romance was much newer than their friendship, but was equally comfortable yet exciting. They had always been great partners from the start. Their almost complete understanding of and affection for each other had already been there before Roger decide to take a leap of faith and asked Brian out on a proper date. The foundation had already existed when they decided to build romance on top of it. The only significant difference was now their frequent arguments presented a risk of breaking their hearts instead of only bruising their prides. Some would accuse Roger of occasionally being cruel to Brian, but he didn’t want to hurt the man – not in the past, not now, not ever. However, Roger had his temper and Brian could be bullheaded. Despite their love and devotion, disagreement and argument were unavoidable and required navigation they hadn’t quite mastered yet. The last thing Roger and Brian needed in their lives was the added strain of having the press and society’s small-minded harassment.

“What is it?” Roger asked when the last roadie was successfully driven out.

Freddie looked at him with uncharacteristic nervousness, yet another sign that something was terribly wrong. Roger wondered if they should wait for Brian and John to arrive before having this conversation proper. “Have you listened to Brian’s new song?”

“Not yet. He said he’s not done with it,” Roger admitted. Then, seeing Freddie’s continued fretting, he rolled his eyes. “Does he write about cats again? Or is it _Uranus_ this time? I’ll tell him off when he gets here. He’s at his parents’ now, being a dutiful son.” He scoffed without malice or derision.

They had had a few minor squabbles over the themes in Brian’s songs. Roger found some of them too strange even for Queen, but honestly he didn’t mind all that much as most of the songs were good regardless of the subjects. He knew that he had written his own fair share of “unusual” songs and Brian usually backed him up after a brief argument. This was just how their dynamics worked. They would never be as openly affectionate as Freddie and Jim were nor as quietly devoted as John and Veronica. They would never have a peaceful domestic life that often characterized loving relationship. They argued, they forgave, and they learnt there was yet another way to love each other despite their differences. It was exciting and never boring, which was everything Roger could hope for in a romance he hadn’t seen coming when he auditioned for a small college band all those years ago.

But, Freddie didn’t seem to share Roger’s amusement. In fact, he looked even more agitated than before. Roger frowned, starting to feel really worried. “You should listen to it,” Freddie finally said. “You _really_ should.”

It wasn’t about cats or space.

Roger gave it a listen twice. On his third listening, he stood up midway through the song, grabbed his stuff, and walked out. Freddie didn’t try to stop him when he called Crystal and gave his orders. Within half an hour, he was gone from the studio. Before midday, his essential belongings were being moved from Brian’s house. By the time the evening fell, Roger was all alone in his country retreat, bottles of wine scattered about him, ashes and cigarette butts overflowing from an ashtray beside him. Roger glared at the flashing TV screen in front of him. It was showing the news, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the rest of the world. In his ears, he could still hear the sweet words of Brian’s song, a love song for someone he shouldn’t love, lines after lines after lines of yearning for someone who was not his partner, endless professions of love and not a single hint of remorse. Roger crushed his cigarette viciously on the ashtray and took a generous gulp from a bottle closest to him.

He’d known it was going to happen. Both he and Brian had committed the same crime on long and lonely tours. In fact, at first, Roger had hesitated pursuing Brian for this very reason, recalling their hurt and angry exes and rather belatedly and selfishly not wanting to be in their shoes. But, he and Brian had struck an agreement and understanding. After all, they travelled together often, spent more time with each other than with anyone. There would be no chance to feel lonely, they had said, no chance to stray. Well, apparently there _was_. An empty bottle rolled away with a clatter when Roger angrily kicked it. He briefly thought about smashing every breakable item in the room to channel the storm of rage swirling in his chest. But, the violent urge was only passing, quickly extinguished by a lacerating sense of betrayal.

Of all people, Roger trusted Brian the most. He had been with Roger from the start, still with him through failures and fights, always beside him through long days on the road and hot hours on stages, remained by his side on glory days of success. Things had and would continue to change, but Roger believed- _had believed_ that Brian would never leave him, would never replace him with anyone else, would never betray him. Now, Roger felt unsteady, shaken as one of the foundations of his life, one he had thought would be constant and unchanging, was torn down underneath his feet. Doubt filled him. What else had he been oblivious to? What other lies had Brian told him? What other parts of their relationship was untrue? Was any part of it true at all? Roger would blame it on alcohol, but he knew that when his clumsy finger fumbled when he tried to light up a fresh stick of cigarette, it wasn’t due to intoxication. His eyes burnt, his chest ached, his heart and lungs felt constricted. It hurt – deep and cutting and almost physical – that he could almost cry. Roger breathed slowly, inhaling and exhaling thick smoke as he did so, and it didn’t help, only making him more aware of the painful hollow in his chest where contentment used to be. Brian had filled it before, had given Roger happiness and peace that he hadn’t thought to look at anyone the way he looked at Brian. Now, Roger felt not whole, felt like he only had half of his soul, and the reminder of how essential Brian had come to be for him and how Brian had chosen someone else over Roger’s love and devotion cut deeper and deeper with each passing moment.

Roger fell asleep on the sofa some time past midnight, very drunk but not drunk enough to be unaware of the slow but sure crushing of his heart. He was woken up many hours later by Crystal, who brought him a plate of breakfast along with a glass of water. Roger had no appetite, but he forced himself to eat and rehydrate, pride disallowing him from being weakened by grief. Fake it till you make it. Wasn’t that what brought Queen to the present, the almost bullish conviction that if they looked and acted the part, they would eventually get what they wanted? Roger took one bite after another slowly but steadily. He hadn’t quite recovered yet, the deep cuts in his heart were still bleeding yet, but he refused giving up and falling apart so easily, least of all because of Brian. Roger scowled at the thought of him, his anger rising and only tempered by his exhaustion. It would demand an outlet soon, but for now Roger kept it in check, if only to prove to himself that he had some semblance of power over his life.

It took Roger a long time to notice that Crystal was holding a newspaper, waiting for him to read it. “Any interesting news?” Roger managed to ask.

“Someone saw you,” Crystal said simply and unfolded the newspaper to reveal a page containing an unmistakable picture of Roger exiting Brian’s building with his personal belongings.

Roger leaned back heavily against the back of the sofa, staring at the page. After a moment, he took the newspaper from Crystal and read the article. On hindsight, he realized that he hadn’t taken his usual precaution to not be seen, having been so focused on moving out and getting away as far as possible from Brian. The article described in great relish the personal nature of the items he had taken out, noting that they indicated more permanent residence rather than occasional brief stays. Interviews with nosy neighbors confirmed that Roger had spent a lot of time in Brian’s house – sometimes even weeks at a time. The implications of these were speculated on by the journalist, who was quick to condemn and deride even with no concrete evidence. With malicious glee, the article campaigned to erase Roger and Brian’s – even _Queen’s_ – years of hard work and achievements. And for what reason? Because Roger and Brian didn’t live up to some arbitrary standard of how a person should live and love? Because Roger and Brian dared to mind their own business in a way that didn’t fit the ridiculously narrow general convention? Infuriated, Roger threw the newspaper back to Crystal without finishing the piece.

He felt sick. He had known all along that this kind of reaction would come if- _when_ people knew about him and Brian. This was one of the reasons they had decided to keep their relationship a secret, because they knew the world would be cruel and life wouldn’t be easy for them. Roger thought of the people he loved, friends and family who had cared and supported him until he got this far. Would they still love him when they knew the truth? _Had_ they stopped loving him just because of a cruel article in a stupid newspaper? Roger could practically hear doors closed and barred to keep him out. All his life, he had worked hard to be liked and recognized by people, to be seen and heard by the busy noisy world, but now Roger hesitated to name anyone he could turn to for help and support without fearing rejection, now he realized more than ever that many people’s love for him might be conditional in nature. He liked to think his mother would understand and still love him. Freddie definitely would, having courageously faced and fought prejudice for years while Roger was hiding like a coward. John would be sympathetic, supportive in a quiet way that always put Roger at ease. And Brian…

“What does Queen say?” he asked Crystal.

“They’re waiting for you to decide what to do.”

Roger didn’t ask whether this included Brian. He told himself he didn’t care to know. “Don’t tell them anything yet. Not even about where I am,” he ordered as he made his way to his private studio.

Roger spent the rest of the day hitting drum skins and metal plates as hard and fast as he could until his palms were blistered and cut, the drumsticks stained red, his ears ringing with rage. He patched himself up, got drunk and fell asleep on the sofa, was woken up by Crystal for breakfast, and returned to the studio to abuse the drums once more. The force and loudness worked out his fury bit by bit. The concentration it took to maintain the rhythm steadied his mind. The familiarity of the art provided an anchor when his world was turned upside down. Even the wounds on his palms grounded Roger whenever his mind drifted to fabricated happier times. By the third day, Roger was ready to give his mum a call as he felt he owed her an explanation. He convinced himself that he didn’t need her approval, that just as he had chosen music over more traditional professions against her wishes, he didn’t need her permission to live the way he wanted to live. Yet, when his mum voiced her calm acceptance to his admission, he felt some tension evaporated from his strung up body. He sagged in relief, breathing easier with one fear was lifted from his shoulders. At least he wouldn’t lose his mother. At least one person still loved him.

“Are you all right?” she asked gently.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Roger answered, injecting as much casualness as he could into his voice.

“What about Brian?”

“ _What about_ _him_?” Roger snapped. He pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the red hot anger coursing through him just at the mention of the name. “Sorry. I just don’t want to think about him.”

“I understand,” his mum replied, unfazed by his outburst. “You should talk to him when you’re ready. Just remember that you shouldn’t stay where you’re hurt and you don’t want to be.”

Roger’s childhood had been spent with parents who were separated more often than not. Walking away from a relationship with two children at stake hadn’t been easy, but even at a young age Roger had realized how much happier his mum was to be away from the deep fear and unhappiness inspired by his father. Roger’s problem was nothing like his mum’s, but she was still right. He didn’t have to stay where he was hurt and he didn’t want to be. Shared history had kept him and Brian together for a time, but mere nostalgia shouldn’t keep Roger where he had been betrayed. It was over, even though it hurt and it stung and it cut to sleep and wake up alone, to have no one to talk to, to be deprived of familiar banters, to lose kisses and caresses and private whispers, to not be loved despite how much he had loved and still loved.

But, Roger’s mum had survived worse, so Roger would survive this. He took a breath and gritted his teeth, shoving the burning pain in his chest to the furthest corner of his mind, then began planning what to say or not say to the press. It wasn’t just about his dreams and career. There were four equal people in Queen, three people Roger had to keep in mind. One wrong move and a whole legacy would end not just for him, but also his friends. The idea of it sat uncomfortable and heavy in the pit of Roger’s stomach. His personal life had been torn bloody and ruined. He had lost a friend and a lover in the same minutes. He had lost his dreams of happiness in the span of one miserable song. He couldn’t lose this, too. He couldn’t lose music and the privileged of being heard. He couldn’t let all those years of poverty, starvation, stress, and blind determination came to ruin. He couldn’t lost everything he had built himself around.

Roger wanted to blame Brian for this predicament. He _did_ blame Brian. But, despite the fury, despite the pain, despite all the regrets and blames, he still loved Brian. It should be easy to hate Brian for what he had done, for lying to him, for breaking their commitment, for breaking Roger’s heart, but he couldn’t. There remained in his heart a special place for Brian, perpetually warm feelings that resulted from years of friendship and romance. Roger still remembered how Brian had never left his side even at his worst, how he had came to him with his big dreams and amazing songs and smiles so bright and almost innocent, how he had shyly romanced Roger with earnest sweetness and tender kisses and touches, how he had trusted Roger to take care of him in his darkest moments, how he had looked at Roger when he thought Roger wasn’t looking, how they had shared hours arguing about nothing and laughing about everything, how he had listened when Roger bared his mind and heart and soul and everything he had as he’d never done with anyone else, how he had made Roger wanted to be a better man for him. Through the thick blanket of hurt brought by the infidelity of the one he trusted the most in his life, Roger still thought of Brian tenderly, still wanted to make him happy, still devote his whole fucking heart and soul to him, still wanted to hear that Brian loved him even if it was just a lie, still loved Brian fervently whether or not Brian returned a scrap of his love, still wished Brian would turn around and truly love him this time. Roger finished another bottle of wine and told himself his eyes stung and his heart clenched because of the headache he inflicted on himself.

A week after Roger left, he opened the front door after the bell rang insistently and came face-to-face with Brian. Brian looked miserable – hair more tangled and wild than usual, dark circles under his eyes, thick beard growing on his face, haunted look in his familiar gaze. Without exchanging words, Roger could feel the echo of his pain in his chest, deep and spreading until his heart felt like it could barely beat without shattering, without every fiber of his being screaming in phantom pain. Roger’s hand twitched at his side, longing to pull Brian into his arms and ease their shared pain. Only a week ago, he would’ve heeded to the urge, but this time he resolutely held himself back, fisting his hand until his nails dug into his scarred palm to keep from reaching out. He shouldn’t stay where he was hurt, and Brian had hurt him.

“I hope no one follows you,” he said, glancing behind Brian’s back where thankfully there was no one in sight.

“I don’t think anyone does,” Brian replied quietly. “Can we… May I come in?”

Roger briefly considered shutting the door on Brian’s face, but he couldn’t. Not when Brian looked like misery personified and Roger’s ill-advised love for him was stronger than the force of his anger. Roger turned away and walked back into the house, not wanting Brian to see whatever affection Roger shouldn’t still have for him. “Suit yourself.”

Roger could hear Brian’s hesitant footsteps behind him, followed by the soft sound of the front door being closed as Brian tried not rouse Roger’s ire. Roger hated himself for being so attuned to Brian, for noticing these little things that would help him gauge Brian’s state of mind so that he’d know how to make Brian feel better, happier. It was over, Roger reminded himself forcefully. They were only friends and band mates now. There was no need for him to care so much about Brian’s feelings. But, the thought of indifference hurt almost as much as the reminder that Brian had cheated on him. They had known each other for so long, trusted each other so fully, loved each other so deeply, and now Roger was supposed to treat Brian like a distant acquaintance because of what? Because Brian was bored? Because he was tempted? Because Roger wasn’t good enough for him? Because he stopped loving Roger and this was the way he chose to inform Roger about it? Roger passed his hand over his eyes, trying to hide how his eyes burnt.

“We need to talk,” Brian started softly, still following Roger. “Please,” he added, desperation lacing his voice.

Roger sat own heavily on the sofa, turned on the TV, and turned up the volume. He refused to look at Brian, knowing that just a glance at his miserable face would soften him when he should be cruel and hardened. “I’m not leaving Queen, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said brusquely.

“That’s not what… _Roger_.” The desperation was painful to hear, but Roger steadfastly kept his eyes on the screen even as his heart clenched so agonizingly he almost couldn’t breathe. Brian hovered near him, seemingly considering sitting beside him on the sofa, before sitting down on an armchair next to it instead. “That’s not what I want to talk about.”

Roger grabbed his cigarette pack on the coffee table in front of him and lighted a stick. His eyes stung, his throat felt constricted and each word was bitter as he forced it out. Pride alone had kept his voice from trembling and his hands from shaking, but pride did nothing to alleviate the tearing pain when he remembered that Brian knew how to see through all his lies, that Roger had let him learn and know him so well, that he had been betrayed by the one person he had thought would never betray him. “I’ll come up with something for the press. I guess you don’t want your parents to know about this. I’ll call Jim tomorrow to talk about some statement to keep anyone from…”

“There’s no affair!” Brian cut him off. He made to touch Roger’s arm, but stopped and his hand fell to his lap limply. “Freddie told me you listened to my song. I swear it’s not what you think it is. There’s no one but you. Never has been and never will be. I never cheat on you. Please. Roger, please,” he continued, his voice growing smaller and smaller by each word until in the end it was just a broken whisper.

For a brief moment, Roger was relieved, but the relief and elation were quickly and ruthlessly extinguished by the vast knowledge of Brian’s past indiscretions. Not so long ago, he would believe anything Brian said, trusting him not to lie to him about anything significant, sure that Brian would never hurt him. Now, however, doubt had grown and taken root in Roger’s mind. Roger wondered how many lies he had believed in, how many things Brian had kept from him, how many half-truths and half-lies Roger hadn’t noticed. Roger looked at Brian’s despaired face and felt a cold stab of anger for years of love and commitment cast aside for a stranger. “I know you,” he snarled. “You write your experiences. I’ve heard enough of your songs that…” Roger stopped to inhale a lungful of smoke that failed to burn as much as Brian’s infidelity did. “I know what you’re like,” he spat out in the end.

“It’s fiction!” Brian insisted desperately. “It’s not real, I swear!”

“Of course not,” Roger said bitterly.

“It is _not_ ,” Brian said again, his voice cracking. He looked at Roger imploringly. “Think of it. We’re together most of the time and when we’re not, we’re never really alone, there are always people with us, and then we go to each other the second we can. If I had ever looked at someone the wrong way, you would’ve heard about it.”

Between endless work and their (previous) living arrangement, there hadn’t been much time for them to be apart. They had been almost always together and each had been a permanent presence in the back of the other’s mind when they were separated. They had always needed space from each other and would always do, but somewhere along the lines, they had learnt to compromise, to give and to take, to understand. Roger remembered his sudden vacations to sunny or snowy destinations punctuated by midnight calls to a home across the globe to hear a familiar voice, to banter, to listen, to say very little, to deny that he missed Brian until he couldn’t keep away anymore and came home to him. He remembered, too, quiet weeks when various projects and obligations had called Brian away and Roger had eagerly picked up every phone call in hope of hearing tired sighs turn into something warm. He remembered when Brian had all but abandoned his roadies and assistant at airports so he could be with Roger as soon as he humanly could. He remembered a relationship that might have seemed tumultuous or even dysfunctional to others but was exactly what he and Brian wanted and needed to get that coveted contentment, to be happy at last, to finally belong.

But, Roger also remembered Brian’s past affairs and how crafty he could be when properly motivated. Roger had been there, had even taught Brian how to keep dalliances a secret, and what a brilliant student Brian had always been. “You could’ve paid them to keep them quiet. I know how it works. If there’s a will…”

“There’s no will,” Brian interjected. His voice was shaking and so were his hands. Roger clenched his free hand into a fist, digging his nails viciously into his healing palm to keep from reaching out to Brian. “Never has been, never will be. It’s only ever been you I love and when I’ve got you, there’s no point in looking for anyone else.” Brian’s voice was cracking and unsteady and it hurt, it hurt so much to see his eyes full of abject misery, his lips twisted with despair, his face so tired and lonely. Roger dragged his eyes away, but the throbbing ache remained, weighing down his scarred heart. “I’ve always loved you. Right from the start, from the day I met you, I’ve always loved you. It’s always only you.”

Roger took a deep breath. Brian had told him that a few months after their first official dinner date. Sitting together under the stars he loved, Brian had told Roger how he had stolen his heart that first day with his sharp tongue and even sharper wits and extraordinary musical skill, how he had kept quiet for very long with the conviction that Roger wouldn’t glance at him that way, how grateful and happy he was to be wrong and be granted the privilege of having Roger’s heart. Roger still remembered the look on Brian’s face, sincere and glowing under the moon and stars, and how that had convinced Roger to give his heart more fully than he ever had with anyone else. That night, Roger had decided to trust him wholly, stupidly swayed by pretty words of love confession and a tender look. How things had changed today. How Roger wished they had never changed.

“Not sure I should trust you.”

“Let me prove it,” Brian begged. “Ask me anything. Anything at all.”

Roger eyed him warily. He wanted to trust Brian, he really did. But, as much as he still loved Brian, he wasn’t fully certain Brian loved him as much in return and Roger wasn’t senseless or a fool. He knew he shouldn’t stay with someone who had hurt him and might hurt him again. “Tell everyone, including your parents, about us,” he said, knowing exactly where Brian would falter: when he had to disappoint his parents.

Brian nodded. “Alright,” he agreed without hesitation. “I’ll see my parents today to tell them everything, then I’ll tell Jim to release a statement to the press.”

Roger’s stomach turned nauseatingly as he sat up straight. “Are you mad?” he exclaimed, unease growing into sickness in his gut.

Brian paled, but he took a shuddering deep breath and fisted his hands to brace himself. “I’ve been thinking about telling my parents – I just didn’t know how and when. Maybe it’s time.”

“What if they…” Roger couldn’t continue and put in words the main source of Brian’s greatest discontent. He knew very well how it had troubled Brian for years to not have his father’s approval for his choice of profession and how happy and relieved and proud he had been when his father finally acknowledged his skill and success, how that one simple handshake from his dad had kept him alight for weeks. Roger had been beside him in quiet days when Brian lingered near his old textbooks, deliberating whether to return to his old field of study to please his parents. He had been there when Brian played his guitar in distraction as he wondered if his father had been right to say that music was only a pastime and he should find a proper job in the science he excelled in. He had been there in slow days when Brian hesitated by the door, car key in his hand, on his way to tell more lies to his parents about who he really shared his life with. Roger was always single-minded in pursuit of his own fulfilment, completely disregarding how even his parents wanted him to have more conventional and convenient dreams. But, Brian was different from him, always afraid of gaining his parents’ – especially his father’s – disapproval, of disappointing them once again with his life choices and be a less than a perfect son.

“I know,” Brian said. He looked at his clenched hands on his lap and slowly loosened them. When he looked up to Roger again, Roger was staggered by the utter love and devotion in his gaze, untold deep affection that Roger recognized as the same also existed inside him. “But, if I have you, then it’s all right. If I get to keep you, I’ll be fine.”

Roger wished he shared Brian’s romantic views. But, even as his confidence in Brian regrew, he was still aware that things weren’t that easy. Love wouldn’t automatically defeat prejudice. People wouldn’t immediately change their minds after seeing them kiss and hold hands. The music industry, the world, wouldn’t suddenly embrace them just because they loudly proclaimed their love. Brian’s life wouldn’t be entirely happy just because Roger was beside him. There would be times when Brian thought of his decision to choose Roger and mourned the loss of the public and his parents’ approval. There might be times when he regretted choosing Roger at all and Roger couldn’t have that.

“It’s not that easy, Bri.” Roger said heavily, shaking his head.

A small smile formed on Brian’s lips, tired, fond, knowing, and yet determined, a reminder that no one was as stubborn as Roger beside Brian. “Nothing is ever easy with you, Rog,” Brian said gently, with the familiarity of years of friendship and love, knowledge and affection deeper than bones, more profound than spirit and soul. “But, you always make it worth it.”

Roger knew he wasn’t an easy friend, colleague or partner. He argued with Brian too much – sometimes because he really disagreed, others because he enjoyed riling him up, getting emotion to the surface of the normally still water. Brian himself wasn’t exactly the easiest person to deal with, iron hard underneath the velvet soft. Their relationship had never been easy, punctuated by disagreements and haunted by silent fear of disapproval. However, Roger couldn’t deny a similar sentiment to Brian’s declaration. Brian gave Roger purpose when Roger was lost, provided support when Roger lied about being strong enough, stayed when no one could stand Roger anymore, always there whether or not Roger saw him or not, presented Roger with love and security and comfort that he had secretly sought. This had been true in the past and still was true now. Roger felt the tug of a call he could never resist to be at Brian’s familiar side, the only place he ever felt truly belonged. Roger’s mum had told him not stay where he had been hurt and didn’t want to be, and Roger insensibly but wholeheartedly wanted to be with Brian.

“What the fuck is that song about then?” Roger snapped, his voice rough.

“Just something that came to my mind. There’s no truth to it,” Brian replied, shaking his head in regret. “It’s pure fiction, like _’39_.”

Roger eyed Brian, trying to detect any lie or half-truth, and found neither, found nothing less than full honesty. He took a lungful of smoke to buy himself time to weigh his options. But, Roger had always trusted his first impulsive decision and he had made that decision a long time ago on the day he decided to audition for a small college band that brought him to the only person he loved and adored beyond reasons. “And like _I’m in Love with My Car_ ,” Roger added, offered.

A big smile slowly spread across Brian’s face. “Yeah. Yeah. Just like _I’m in Love with My Car_ ,” Brian agreed breathlessly. His hands clenched and unclenched on his lap. Roger watched them for a while before extending a hand that Brian quickly seized and held tight.

Warmth sank into Roger’s skin down to his bones and then to his whole being. Roger almost melted in a boneless heap as the rage and misery that had kept him tense seeped away slowly but surely. But, even if he did melt in mental exhaustion, he had Brian holding his hand, keeping him safe and loved in his weaker moment as he had always done before. Roger felt not yet whole, but calmer, more sure of his place in life. He hadn’t realized how much the world had gone out of focus, unclear and confusing and frighteningly strange and lonesome until now, until Brian held his hand again and helped him see and find his footing in the unfriendly mess they lived in. Some pain still lingered. Roger was still a little cautious, but he was willing to let Brian prove himself and he was confident that Brian _would_ prove himself. Roger squeezed Brian’s hand, seeking and giving strength. It would be all right. _They_ would be all right.

“Mum would want to talk to you,” he told Brian. “She told me I shouldn’t stay if you’ve hurt me. She’d want a good reason why I don’t leave.”

Brian looked nervous, but nodded. “I’ve sort of had that conversation with Freddie and John. I think I can handle that.”

Freddie and John had their own ways of making people do as they said. Freddie was an expert in making people want to please him, while John knew how to make it clear when someone had displeased him. Roger’s mum was entirely different matter, however. She was kind and friendly, but she was also the one who passed down Roger’s stubbornness. Her temper wasn’t badly controlled like Roger’s, but there was a good reason Roger’s friends always made sure to be on their best behaviors around her. Her unhappiness was always sharply and keenly felt, even when her words were perfectly sweet. Brian began to bounce his leg as his thumb moved restlessly over the back of Roger’s hand, betraying his growing anxiety. Roger wanted to reassure him. At least his mum wouldn’t take issue with their sexual and romantic preferences, which might not be the case with Brian’s parents.

Roger winced at the thought of Brian’s parents. He had made his demand to scare Brian off, but now that Brian had agreed to it, Roger regretted letting pain and anger take charge of him and potentially rob Brian of two of the most important and loved people in his life. “You don’t have to tell your parents if you don’t want to. We’ll keep our press statement vague so they won’t suspect anything,” Roger offered.

Brian looked at him, then shook his head with surprising certainty. “No, I think this is time. I’ve promised you and I don’t want to lie to my parents anymore. I’ll tell them about us, about you. They should know who I love.”

Roger studied Brian carefully and found steely determination under Brian’s nervousness. He was scared. He knew what might be coming. He knew what he might be losing. But, he’d do it for Roger, for both of them, for their future together in a world that could be heartless and hateful. Roger tightened his hand around Brian’s transmitting his commitment and determination to make the world once more bend to them. “I’ll come with you.”

Brian’s face brightened, the lines of tension melting from his body as he smiled so widely and genuinely that Roger had to lean in and kiss him. Brian melted into the kiss as he always did and he held Roger safely as he had done from the start. The healing started off slowly with them sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, the TV turned off so they could hear and understand each other without misunderstanding. There was a lot of work to be done, but the reconciliation had begun. For every bit of doubt removed, they moved closer to each other, inch by inch crossed with necessary slow deliberation until they were sat with their sides pressed close, fingers tangling gently but firmly. They hardly let go of each other that evening and they were still holding hands as they stood in front of the front door of Brian’s childhood home. Brian’s hand was clammy and Roger was fighting the compulsion to bite his nails. But, the tightness around Brian’s eyes disappeared when he looked at Roger and smiled, reminding Roger of their first performance together on a stage as partners, the day he gained the courage to ask Brian out for dinner, the night Brian anxiously invited him to stay the night, the whispered confessions late in lazy days, the way he traced a circle around Roger’s left ring finger before they slept at night. Roger leaned up to press a small kiss to the corner of Brian’s lips.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he vowed despite his accelerated heartbeats. “I love you.”

Brian looked surprised, then smiled as brightly as the summer sun. Daringly, he pressed a firm kiss to Roger’s lips. “I love you, too.” he whispered with as much awe and trust and honesty as Roger felt.

When the door opened, Brian’s hand was still cold and Roger’s heart was still pounding against his ribcage, but they were ready.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rather grim way to celebrate birthday, but this is also a grim time, so it fits. On hindsight, the title doesn’t make that much sense, but the only alternative I can think of is the file name, “Wrong Song,” which is self-explanatory but not pretty enough.
> 
> I can be found on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/).


End file.
